Be My Monster
by forloveandlemons
Summary: Something within her was telling her to do it, to touch him, but at the same time every fiber of her being was screaming for her to not to. Something was warning her – letting her know that he was dangerous and that this wouldn't end well for her. xx A complete AU Stydia story that takes place within the Murder House.
1. Chapter 1

The house she stood before was beautiful. It peered down at her as if to intimidate her and assert its dominance, causing a slight chill to radiate down her spine. It was the kind of house that you saw in movies, horror movies, to be exact. Her father claimed that he had purchased it at a "steal of a price", though she couldn't find it in herself to believe him. She never believed anything he said.

A breeze blew by, her strawberry blonde locks tickling the back of her neck and the exposed skin of her shoulders. She couldn't help but to wonder if it was Mother Nature's doing, or if the house had heavily exhaled on her. It looked as if it had that sort of ability – it looked as if it was alive.

"Lydia!" Her mother called to her with a joyful tone, her hands clasped in front of her chest. "Come on! Come look through the house with us!" The last thing Lydia wanted to do was look through the house. Just the thought of stepping into the large, overbearing doorway gave her the creeps.

"I guess we're the Addams Family now," she mumbled to herself as she forced herself to walk, her legs feeling as heavy as lead, as if she had been treading through quicksand all morning.

It was later that night and Lydia sat around the dining room table amongst her parents. Chinese takeout containers were scattered along the tabletop, though she couldn't find it in herself to take interest in any of it. Her appetite was virtually gone. The groaning in her stomach said otherwise, but she was trying to prove a point. She was trying to show her parents that this new life of theirs wasn't going to happen. It was just a quick façade.

"Aren't you going to eat, honey?" Her mother's tone was full of worry, just as her gaze was. Her father, on the other hand, was distracted with his Chicken Lo Mein and his iPhone – two things that were obviously more important than his own family.

"I'm not hungry," she replied after a few beats. The words felt thick in her mouth and that uneasy feeling from earlier that day settled within her again. What was it with this house? Lydia would never admit it, but she was constantly getting the feeling like she was being watched. She tried telling herself that it was just the effect of a new house and a different atmosphere. Could it really be that, though?

"Lydia, darling, you have to eat something." Her mother further pressed as she reached over to place her tan hand over her daughter's much paler one.

Lydia liked to believe that her mother was once beautiful, before the age and constant tanning had set in. She still had aesthetically pleasing features, ones that Lydia wished she had inherited. She often wondered why she wasn't born tall and thin like her mother. Why couldn't she have the perfect dancers' body? Instead, she was stuck at standing no taller than five-foot-three with curves that made it hard for her to even wear a simple pair of jeans. It was both a blessing and a curse.

Rolling her eyes to her mother's concern, she stabbed her fork into a piece of glazed meat and shoved it into her mouth. "Happy?" She raised her eyebrows, speaking with her mouth full before then pushing away from the table and stomping up to her new room.

"I start school tomorrow," she sighed heavily as the words left her mouth, her green eyes focused in on the computer screen that currently held the image of her best friend from Boston. The brunette on the other end smiled reassuringly, releasing a sigh that mimicked her own.

"You'll be fine," she stated with a nod, "the Great Lydia Martin can make the best of any situation."

Lydia wanted to reach out and pull Malia into a hug that threatened to cut off her air supply. Unfortunately, that wasn't possible. Not anymore. She instead settled with cuddling her pillow into her chest, her chin resting at the top of it.

"How can you be so sure?" The strawberry blonde mumbled out, her confidence dwindling down further with each word that passed her lips. "How do you know that I won't be considered a complete freak?"

Malia's lips pressed into a thin line when she said the "f-word". It was a word that Malia hated because of what it meant to Lydia. She had been labeled a "freak" on more than one occasion and she knew how much it upset her best friend. Hiding her oddness was easy, but not when it came to her closest friend. Even from across the country she could cause Lydia's eyes to turn apologetic with a simple look.

"Sorry," she grumbled with a faint groan, further burying her face into the squished pillow.

"Just put on your best pair of heels and make sure you pack your I-Don't-Give-A-Shit Attitude, okay?" The computer screen flickered a bit between Malia's words, causing her face to become slightly distorted before freezing on that image for a few short moments. Lydia furrowed her eyebrows together and she suddenly realized that she was becoming her mother. Her facial expressions were proof enough.

"I'll just talk to you tomorrow, Lia." Her voice was a bit louder than usual, as if the glitch on her end made it so Malia couldn't clearly her hear words. Malia's voice cracked and gurgled before the Skype screen went dark, claiming that it could no longer establish a connection.

Lydia figured that it had to be a problem with her internet. The house was large and they only had one receiver, meaning that the signal probably wasn't very strong in her room. "Stupid fucking house," she mumbled, slamming the screen of her computer shut.

* * *

><p>Lydia had left the house that morning before her parents could even speak a word to her. She figured that her father would be busy with setting up appointments with new patients, while her mother was distracted with unpacking the rest of their belongings. They were all tired of swimming through a pool of cardboard boxes.<p>

Her first class of the day was English, the subject she was best at. It had always come easy to her for some reason, though she claimed that it was the language they spoke, so why wouldn't it? She didn't look at anyone as she strutted into the classroom with her head held high, immediately taking a seat wherever she pleased.

Even though she wasn't really looking at anyone, she could still feel all of their eyes on her. They were all wondering who the new girl was. Why was her dress so short? Why did she waste so much time with curling her thick hair? Why didn't her shoes match what she had on? Oh, wait – those were just her own insecurities creeping into her thoughts.

While nervously twisting a pen around in her lap, she glanced over to her right to sneak a look at her fellow classmates. They all looked pretty normal, aside from the girl in the back row with blue hair and metal pierced through multiple places of her face. Lydia made sure to not let her gaze linger too long on her. The last thing she needed was to make enemies on her first day.

"Who's the new girl?" She heard someone whisper from behind her, causing her to sink further into her chair.

"I don't know – haven't heard anything about her yet," the voice replied, this one belonging to a male.

The bell signaling that class was to begin drowned out the rest of the conversation. Lydia cursed the school system inwardly, her lips pursing.

Although she adored the English subject, she was not a fan of the teacher. Mrs. Blake had placed them in a group project on her very first day. She explained that they had to create their own story in which the character suffered some sort of tragic loss. She was very vague with the prompt, saying that she wanted them to use their imagination and creativity for the assignment and that it would be due in one month. Lydia was placed in a group with another girl and two guys. The girl she came to find was named Allison and she could tell by her clothes that she was more of the "free spirit" type. Whether the two would get along was unknown at the time, though Lydia was more of the prim and proper kind. Scott and Isaac, the two guys within the group, were entertaining, to be completely honest. She remained silent for long moments of time just to listen to the two playfully bicker back and forth. Isaac claimed that he wanted their character to lose a limb. It was rather cliché to her, but he was adamant about it – saying that most people would write that their character had lost a family member or another loved one.

"I don't think so," she spoke up for the first time after introducing herself. Isaac turned his attention to her, his eyebrows raised in a way as if he was daring her to challenge him. "This is AP English," she began to slowly explain, her eyes never wandering from his, "people are going to be more creative than the loss of a loved one."

Allison snickered, signaling to her that people didn't go up against Isaac often. Sure, he stood a good foot taller than her, but that didn't mean she was intimidated by him. Nothing and no one scared her.

"Okay then, what's your grand idea, red?" She cringed slightly at the overused nickname, faintly glaring in his direction.

Pushing her distaste for him away, she thought. Her pen tapped against the notebook she had opened before her which was now filled with random little notes about different characters here and there. She had always been a fan of creating a fantasy world full of made-up characters, even if only in her head.

"What if the main character is losing his mind?" She then suggested, glancing between the three friends in front of her. "We can take the reader on a journey throughout the character's twisted thoughts, allowing them to determine what's real and what isn't." Lydia couldn't tell if they approved of her idea at first. She wanted to pull her hair over her face and hide within it for the rest of the day, but the goofy smile that was soon plastered over Scott's face made her feel a little better, but only a little.

"That's fucking awesome, Lydia. Seriously." He nodded his head in approval and shifted his gaze over to Allison, whom she was guessing was his girlfriend by the way he affectionately squeezed her bare knee.

"I've got to give it to you, red, it's good." Isaac voiced his admiration for her story idea, both of them sharing a slight smile. That being one of the first times she's truly smiled since arriving in Los Angeles.

* * *

><p>"Hey, come sit with me!" Allison chirped, her dimples clearing showing within her wide smile.<p>

Getting through her next couple of classes had been easy. Easier than expected, actually. She came to the realization that her new school was a bit behind than her old school in Boston was, meaning that she already knew most of the material. It felt nice to actually be ahead of her new peers for once.

Lydia nodded to Allison's request, not wanting to lose a friend before truly making one. So, she did as she was told and sat down across from Allison at the lunch table. It didn't take long before Scott joined them, him and Allison sharing a chaste kiss as he found his place at her side.

"So, where are you from?" The brunette spoke up, being the first to break the ice between all of them.

"Boston," she replied without hesitation before then bringing the can of Diet Coke to her lips and taking a generous swallow. She hadn't realized how thirsty she was until right at that moment. "My parents thought that a fresh start would be good for me. Well, I mean, for all of us." Lydia figured that she would go ahead and answer the next question she knew Allison was going to ask. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure that one out.

"Oh wow, so this is like completely different for you, yeah?" It made her slightly happy to see that Allison was actually interested in hearing about her. She could tell that the other girl wasn't asking just to be polite. If only everyone else could be this kind.

Shrugging in response, Lydia unwrapped her small packet of celery and bit into one, slowly chewing. "It's not that bad," she easily lied, glancing back and forth between Allison and Scott.

"What do you think about Scott and I coming by tonight? We can work on our story. Ya know, get a head start on everyone else," Allison's smile never faltered and Lydia couldn't help but to wonder if her cheeks ached the way she thought they would. Was this girl always this peppy?

"Here – write down your address," the brunette was sliding a pen and a napkin in her direction before she even had the chance to disagree, making her feel as if she didn't really have a choice in the matter. As Lydia scribbled down her address in perfect cursive, Allison took a sip from her water and then reached for the napkin once she was done. It was then that her smile completely fell, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"No way! You live at the Murder House?!" Scott's face brightened dramatically after peering over his girlfriend's shoulder to read the address himself. Her eyes widened in shock and slight fear – what the hell was a murder house?

"What?" She questioned with the confusion clearing showing through in her tone. "No…my house isn't a murder house. Why would you say that? What are you talking about?"

"Chill out. It's just that that house has a bit of a reputation. You should definitely Google it." Scott explained with a nod before then standing from the table just as the bell rang throughout the cafeteria, letting the students know they had seven minutes to get to their next class. "We'll definitely be there, though," he added with a nod, his hand clasping Allison's and tugging her along with him. The brunette still hadn't said anything, though she had a fearful look in her eyes.

What the hell just happened?

Instead of going to her last class of the day, Lydia decided on impulse to skip and make her way home. She couldn't stop thinking about what Scott had said during lunch. Google her house? What kind of person did that? Confusion and fear bubbled within her as she fell onto her bed, her fingers immediately lifting her laptop open and typing manically along the keyboard. What if she didn't like what she would fine? Or what if Scott had just been fucking with her and it wasn't anything at all? Maybe this was just some trick that they played on new students merely to get a slight rise out of them. Most of the students did seem too consumed with their own lush lives to really pay attention to her, so it wasn't as if they would go to great lengths to prank the new girl.

Lydia's brows knitted together as she read through article after article. The first death within her house dated back to the 1920's; it was a murder suicide – Nora Montgomery had shot her husband before then shooting herself in the living room. The article stated that it had taken nearly a week before their bodies were discovered and that the details were too graphic to be printed in any newspaper during that time period. The next death was in the 1950's, a few decades after the first. Some poor girl and a nurse had been the victims of a sick man that liked to fake injuries just to get into their house.

"Kinky," she mumbled to herself after reading a section that said man liked to hog tie his victims before then stabbing them countless times. She laughed silently under her breath, though she knew that this wasn't a laughing matter. The list just went on and on, and she was transfixed.

"What's so funny?" She jumped at the unfamiliar voice coming from her doorway. Her eyes widened and a gasp escaped past her lips, her palm pressing forward against the pounding of her heart from over her chest. In her doorway stood an unfamiliar boy; he was about her age, with dark hair and equally dark eyes to match. His hands were shoved into his pockets as if he was trying to tell her that he was comfortable, maybe too comfortable.

"Who are you?" She demanded in a stern voice, quickly closing her laptop as if she was ashamed by what she had been viewing. It's not that that was the case. No, she just didn't want her parents to step in and see the gruesome articles she had been reading. They would more than likely complain that 'it was happening again', then her mother would dramatically run to her bedroom to cry over her only daughter. It was a scenario she had seen played out one too many times.

"Who are you?" The guy mimicked, his eyebrows rising in a taunting gesture.

Lydia remained silent for a long moment. She merely stared at him – silently studying the way she could see the beginning of a bicep from beneath the short sleeves of his tee, and the fact that he had eyelashes any girl would kill for. He obviously wasn't movie star pretty, but there was definitely something attractive about this guy.

Before she could say anything he was making his way into her room. He was gazing at her intently, as if they were the only two people in the universe and he just wanted to devour her. The look made her uneasy, causing her to shift slightly before standing from her bed completely.

"I'm Stiles," he finally said, breaking the silence that had settled between them. It was then that the corners of his lips curled up into a grin and she felt her breath catch in her throat. If she had seen such a smile on any guy passing her on the street she wouldn't think anything of it, but this wasn't just some guy on the street she would never speak to or even see again. No, this was a stranger standing in the middle of her room acting as if he owned the place.

"Look, I don't know who you are or what you want, but you need to get out of my house. My parents should be home any minute," she crossed her arms over her chest and flipped her hair off of her shoulder, now standing her grounds. How did she know that this guy wasn't going to kill her or possibly just steal all of her family's belongings? Ugh, she would never hear the end of it from her father if that were the case.

The guy that claimed to be named Stiles chuckled. Wait – he chuckled? He found her demand to be funny, not even bothering with taking her seriously for even a split second.

"Now," she continued in a stern tone, her gaze turning into that of a fierce, fiery glare.

Stiles' face became void of all emotion and he slowly began to make his way towards her again. She swallowed nervously, silently praying that he hadn't noticed how uneasy she had become. He took another step closer; she could now see the little mole on his left cheek. One more step. His gaze was intense and serious, though she couldn't help but to become lost in the golden hue of his eyes. Then, he took one last step. He was now close enough that she could reach out and touch him. Something within her was telling her to do it, to touch him, but at the same time every fiber of her being was screaming for her to not to. Something was warning her – letting her know that he was dangerous and that this wouldn't end well for her.

"Lydia," he spoke softly, her name falling from his mouth like it was one he had been saying his entire life. It sounded natural coming from him, but how did he know her name in the first place? She knew for a fact that she hadn't revealed such information to him.

Before she could process what was happening, he was pressed against her. His hands were on her hips, his forehead leaning against her own as he closed all of the space between them. A small gasp escaped her from the suddenness of it all. It was enough to steal the breath from her lungs once again.

"You need to wake up, Lydia," he whispered, his lips brushing against hers with each word he spoke.

The strawberry blonde was lost in his voice, so much so that she wasn't even paying attention to the words. His fingers clutched tightly at her dress, causing it to lift up slightly to reveal even more of her thighs. She couldn't help but to wonder what it feel like to have his hands gripping onto her fragile skin; groping and kneading her like his life depended on it.

Stiles suddenly pushed her back with such force that strands of her hair fell from the messy bun she had been sporting. Her green eyes widened and she shook slightly with fear. His touch was no longer gentle and full of need like it had been only seconds ago. Instead, she had gone back to fearing for her life. His fingertips practically tore into her sides, his teeth gritting together as he yelled, telling her to wake up one last time.

"**Lydia! You need to wake up!"** And with that, she jolted awake with a scream, her chest rising and falling in rapid movements.

It took the girl a minute or so to realize that it had only been a dream. She clutched onto her chest, her hands them moving up to push her hair out of her face. Her eyes danced around the unfamiliar room, though the realization of where she was soon sunk in. Not all of it had been a dream. She was still in Los Angeles and in the new house her parents had forced her into. Damn. The dream had been too good to be true. Well, up until the last few minutes.

Rubbing her eyes, Lydia climbed out of bed glanced towards the clock on her bedside table. The digital numbers let her know that it wasn't even seven yet, and that Allison and Scott would be arriving in about an hour. That gave her more than enough time to shower, hopefully washing away all memories of the nightmare she had just lived within her subconscious.

The steam from the hot water clouded the bathroom in no time, though she could still see the faint discoloration of her hips in the mirror. "What the…" she mumbled, glancing down to the pale skin of her nude body. Aside from the small birthmark that was located on her inner thigh, her skin was usually flawless. This was not normal. The purple and black marks that now lingered along her hips were not normal. The fact that the bruises were in the shape of fingerprints were really not normal.

Lydia's hands began to shake the further she investigated the bruises. How could this be? Had she somehow managed to bruise herself from within her dream? No, the bruises weren't in the right position for that. It had only been a dream, though. Dreams weren't real, right?


	2. Chapter 2

"You Googled it, didn't you?" Scott was looking at her with a knowing gleam in his eye and a goofy smile on his face. She couldn't tell if he was trying to be silly, or if the slight unevenness of his jaw just made it appear that way.

Sighing heavily, she lifted her gaze from the notebook before her and up to meet his, one of her eyebrows arched. Scott had been pestering her about her house since he and Allison first arrived. He was in complete awe of the old house, while Allison seemed to be uneasy and maybe even a bit frightened of it. Lydia understood that the house could be intimidating, but what she didn't understand was how someone could be _scared_ of it. A house was an inanimate object, not a living organism.

"Maybe…" she finally replied with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. The sound of Scott happily banging his hands on the table filled the empty room and he leaned back in his chair, his hands then going to rest behind his head. He was pleased with himself, obviously.

"I only read about the first couple of deaths, though," she explained with a slow nod of her head, hoping that the topic would change soon. "Yes, they were gruesome and sad, but not enough to earn the house its own name."

That's how she saw it, at least. Lydia didn't understand why the house had built up such a reputation over the years. Didn't all houses have histories? Sure, some were more interesting than others, but that didn't make it any more fear-inducing. The look on Allison's face proved that she did not see it in the same light. She had been silent most of the night, only speaking when it had to do with their assignment. This was definitely not the same girl she had met that morning.

"Can we focus back on the story, please?" Her words were directed mostly to Scott, but Lydia knew that she was speaking to both of them. The brunette raised her eyebrows at her boyfriend as if in some sort of warning. Scott leaned forward and grabbed his pencil, his joyful smile falling into a blank expression, one that showed just how bored he was. She didn't blame him.

The small group became silent, all three of them working diligently on creating a tragic victim for their English class. She was trying to stay focused, but there was a slight ringing in her ears. She blinked a couple of times and adjusted her jaw, hoping that that would rid her of the noise. Clearing her throat, the strawberry blonde soon stood from the table and crossed into the kitchen, immediately grabbing a bottle of aspirin from the counter.

"Are you okay?" Allison voiced her concern, watching as her new friend dry-swallowed two of the little pills with ease. Lydia nodded in response, the ringing slowly fading until it was gone completely.

"Just a small headache. I'll be fine."

Once she took her seat back at the table, Scott lifted his dark eyes to look at her from beneath his lashes. He glanced over to Allison as if trying to see if she was paying attention, his body leaning forward just a bit. "So," he spoke in a whisper directed towards her, "is it true that this house is haunted?"

"Scott!" Allison yelled with a groan, earning him a slap on the arm. He laughed and rubbed the spot she had hit, trying to make it seem like he was joking but Lydia could tell that he wasn't. She had never even thought of the possibility of her new home being haunted. It sure as hell had a bit of a history, so it wouldn't be completely odd if that happened to be the case.

"Stop talking about it," the brunette hissed under her breath. Allison's irritation for the subject was clear, but Lydia just smiled and laughed softly along with Scott, hoping to lighten the mood. She found his question to be funny, but also interesting. She made a mental note to research hauntings at a later date.

* * *

><p>"So, you skipped class on your first day of school. Can you tell me why?"<p>

Lydia sat across from her father in his office. The black leather chair she was in sunk with her weight, feeling as if it was going to swallow her at any second. She focused on the loose string hanging from her blouse instead of her father, though she heard his question. She always heard his irritating questions.

"Lydia," he continued, his irritation showing through. "Lydia, answer me!"

The girl took in a deep breath and licked over her lipstick covered lips, immediately tasting the wax of it. "I had something to do at home," she finally responded, shrugging her thin shoulders as if to let him know that it wasn't _that_ big of a deal. It had just been a bullshit class, afterall.

"Your recklessness is starting to show through again, you know that, don't you?" He removed his glasses from before his eyes, rubbing them as if to tell her that he was already tired of the subject. At least she wasn't the only one who felt that way. "Do we need to start our secessions again? Would it help for you to have someone to talk to?"

"Jesus fucking Christ," she mumbled under her breath. Lydia rolled her eyes as her father began to treat her like one of his mental patients. He always wanted her to talk to him and at times she even had, though she made a game out of it. Most of what she had told him was exaggerated for her own entertainment. He was her father and she was in no way going to open up to him in the way that he craved. He couldn't fix everyone.

"I skipped one class!" She exclaimed, leaning forward a bit, the string of her shirt now completely forgotten. "I didn't run off with a biker and have a gangbang, so just calm down." The expression her father gave her was priceless. Just the reaction she was looking for. She smiled proudly on the inside, though she still appeared flustered and agitated on the outside.

This was a normal routine for the two of them. She would do something wrong and he would sit her down, hoping that he could fix it by merely talking through it all. He thought that's how he could fix all of his patients, but that obviously wasn't the case. People with sick thoughts couldn't be cured just by merely voicing said thoughts. They had to act upon them, but that only made the desire to do sick things even stronger. It was as vicious cycle – something he clearly wasn't coming to terms with.

"Can I go now?" She stood from the chair, smoothing out her skirt before stomping out of the room without approval from her father.

* * *

><p>"Did you know that people died in this house?" Lydia's green eyes focused on the meal before her. She was twisting her fork around the pasta lazily with no plans of actually eating it. She heard her mother choke slightly on her food, causing her to give her a sideways glance. It was clearly the topic she had brought up that shocked her mother. That was the plan.<p>

"A couple of kids at school told me about how they call this place the Murder House because of all the deaths. Isn't that cool?" She was now staring at her father, watching with the intent as his jaw clenched with each word she spoke. He despised it when she brought up subjects such as this because he didn't believe it to be healthy for her – not when her mentality was as fragile as it was.

"That's why I left school early," she continued to speak with no regard to her father's wellbeing, "I wanted to research this house and I found out that more than ten people have died within these very walls."

"Lydia, that's enough." Her father's voice was stern. She could see the splotchy red patches beginning to form along his chest and neck, letting her know that he was becoming quite angry with her. It was only a matter of time before he exploded.

"It said that most of the people who live in this house end up dead. Maybe we'll be next."

"_**That is enough!"**_ He dropped his fork with a loud clatter, causing her mother to jump slightly in her seat. On the other end of the table, Lydia remained unfazed. "Up to your room. Now." He was glaring at her, like that was supposed to ignite some sort of fear within her. Hadn't she told them multiple times that nothing scared her?

"I was done anyway," she stated under her breath while gathering herself and exiting the dining room.

The girl fell back onto her bed once she had made it up the stairs and into the silence of her own room. Her red hair fanned out below her like a fiery halo, her eyes focused up on the vaulted ceilings of her bedroom. Lydia never knew why she did what she did. She didn't know why she liked to push her father's buttons and talk of things she knew he didn't allow. Maybe she just enjoyed being a problem daughter, or maybe she wanted them to know that she wasn't their perfect little girl anymore.

"They don't understand you, do they?" His voice was faint at first, but grew louder towards the end of the question. She knew she should be scared, but she wasn't. She remained still on her bed, her eyes never leaving the ceiling.

"No," she simply replied in a soft voice. Lydia felt like she was in a dream-like state, like maybe this wasn't real. Did it feel real? She honestly couldn't tell anymore.

The bed dipped down under his weight and soon he was lying at her side, both of them now staring up to the dark ceiling for some unknown reason. She could feel his presence beside her, though she didn't look over to see if someone was actually there because the unknown was much better.

"They've never understood me," she added, her eye lids slowly falling closed.

The guy was silent beside her, though she knew he was still there due to the sound of his light breathing. She desperately wanted to turn to him, but what if he wasn't there? What if it was all in her mind and she was getting bad again?

"Hey," he spoke up after a few minutes; the pleading tone in his voice letting her knew what he wanted. He wanted her to look at him, so she did. Lydia allowed her eyes to flutter open, her head turning so that she was facing him, and what she saw was the same set of dark eyes from the night before. He was gazing back at her, though she expected no different.

"I understand you," Stiles then stated with a slight nod of his head.

Normally Lydia wouldn't believe anyone if they were to say that. There was something in his tone that made her want to believe him, though. Like she could believe anything he told her, no matter how odd or completely wrong it may be. Stiles could tell her that grass was purple and she would stick her head out of the window to find out.

"Do you?" She whispered, her voice wavering.

Stiles nodded as a faint smile appeared on his lips, letting her know that he did understand her and everything she was going through. "Yeah," he mumbled out just as he reached forward to lightly touch a strand of her red hair, gently pushing it back behind her ear.

It felt real. Maybe a little too real. She could feel the heat radiating off of his fingertips as their skin made contact and her first instinct was to push him away, but she instead remained still. Their eyes never leaving one another's. Who was this guy?

"It's time for you to wake up, Lydia," his voice became that of a distant echo again, her eyes closing as she soaked it all up. "You can't be late."

Lydia's eyes snapped open and she immediately reached out to touch the spot to her left, but she only came up empty handed. She sat up on her elbows, realizing that she was lying on her bed in a dark room. The only light was coming from the rising sun that filtered into her room from the window, casting a devilishly red and orange mixture of color across her belongings.

It had just been another dream. The odd thing was that she didn't remember falling asleep, though she obviously must have. She lifted her hand to touch the spot of her cheek his fingertips had grazed, as if she could relive the moment, but it wasn't the same. Instead of feeling warmth flood through her like before, she only felt the cold and loneliness that accompanied her room.

* * *

><p>The strawberry blonde sat silently at her desk, her gaze intently following her Chemistry teacher around the classroom. She was barely listening to what the older man was saying; her mind was otherwise occupied. She knew that she had already learned this, though, so acing the test wouldn't be hard. It helped that she had a pretty good memory.<p>

"Hey, Lydia," the voice came as a whisper, her fingers tightening around the pen she was grasping in her palm. She hesitantly glanced over and expected to see Stiles sitting at the desk to her right, taunting her in the real world, but it was only Isaac. His eyebrows furrowed together at the expression she was giving him, her breathing slightly labored.

"Is it alright if we work on the story tonight?" He questioned with his voice still at low whisper. She nodded in response as she blinked a few times in hopes of clearing her thoughts.

"I'll let Allison and Scott know," she stated, though his features fell slightly at her words. Isaac shook his head and then glanced at the teacher to make sure he wasn't paying any attention to them, which he wasn't. He was instead showing the class how to correctly read the formulas, since the other students were apparently not quite at the senior level chemistry yet.

"Can it just be the two of us? Is that alright?" He pressed, a hopeful tone clouding his voice. Lydia could sense the slight nervousness that was radiating off of him, though she didn't understand why. It wasn't like he was asking her out on a date or anything because school work definitely did not count as a date.

"Oh…okay, yeah…that's fine," the girl replied after a few beats once she had managed to find her voice. Isaac's face lit up and he nodded, his smile reappearing before he then leaned back in his seat, his focus returning to the teacher.

"So, Isaac is coming to my house tonight," she spoke in a distant tone as she took a bite from her carrot stick, her gaze focused on nothing in particular.

Allison gave her a confused look, her head tilting to the side slightly as if she was waiting for the red head to explain. Both of the girls chewed slowly, Allison waiting and Lydia struggling to find the right words to say.

"He said he wanted us to work on the English project, so I then told him I would let you and Scott know…but he wanted it just be the two of us," Lydia figured it would just be better to come out and say it, not wanting to make Allison wait any longer.

"Isaac is a good guy," Allison confessed, nodding her head in approval. It was then Lydia's turn to sport the confused expression. What does that have to do with anything?

"What do you mean?" She pondered before then biting into another one of the carrot sticks, waiting patiently.

"What guy wants to work on a boring assignment alone with a girl? He obviously has a crush on you," she began to explain while pouring a cup of dressing over her salad, shrugging.

"He doesn't even know me," Lydia protested with a shake of her head, not wanting to believe what Allison was saying to her.

"That's why it's just a crush, Lyds. He wants to get to know you, hence why he wants to do the assignment alone tonight."

Thinking of the fact that a guy could actually have a crush on her made her head hurt. She knew that she wasn't ugly and that guys found her attractive, but that all changed once they spoke to her. Lydia was odd and maybe a little off when it came to certain things. She looked like a normal teenage girl on the outside that loved to go to parties and flirt with older guys, but she was nothing like that. She was socially awkward, to say the least. Parties made her uncomfortable and she would much rather be curled up in her bed with a good book instead of with a good guy. Yeah, she had had a couple of boyfriends in the past, but they never went anywhere. They ended the relationship after realizing how much of a nutjob she truly was.

"What's happening, ladies?" Scott bounced over to them with a wide smile, taking his usual seat beside Allison just like she assumed he did every day.

"Isaac has a crush on Lydia and is going over to her house tonight," Allison immediately spilled the juicy information, playfully wiggling her eyebrows at Scott.

"Oooh, how scandalous," Scott continued to play along as he popped open the tab of his Coke. Lydia couldn't help but to laugh at the couple sitting in front of her. She found their reaction to the news to be funny and entertaining; especially with the way Scott seemed to truly be into it. He was obviously one of the class clowns of Beacon Hills High.

"Nothing is going to happen," she tried to tell them, though they weren't buying it. Allison waved off the statement with a flick of her wrist, quickly chewing and swallowing her food before managing to speak up again.

"I'm not saying that it will, but if it _does_…he's a good guy."

* * *

><p>"You're not like all of the other girls, are you?"<p>

Lydia arched an eyebrow, a nervous laugh escaping from her lips at the sound of Isaac's question. It had come out of nowhere and she had definitely not been expecting it, but it was now out in the open and she had to answer it. Ignoring him when it was just the two of them would cause things to grow awkward.

"What?" She asked with a continued laugh, slowly shaking her head.

"You're different. I can tell that you are, but I can't quite place how." He was sitting close to her, so close that their shoulders were touching and she could clearly see all of the colors within his bright eyes.

Smiling, Lydia shrugged her shoulders to his question, unsure of how to respond. She was different, she knew that, but how did she tell him without scaring him away? She thought it better to keep that side of her a secret for as long as she could, so there was no way in Hell she was going to let it all out now. It was too soon.

"I guess you'll just have to find out for yourself." She flashed him another smile, their eyes lingering for a long moment. Isaac began to close the space between them and she knew he was going to kiss her, or he was at least going to try to. Her thoughts were now working fast. Did she want him to kiss her? Would she return the kiss or would she push him away? She knew nothing about him other than his name and a bit about his life from what he had told her. He had a brother that died in the service and his mother was also long gone, leaving just him and his father. She picked up that the two didn't have the best relationship, but she was in no place to ask him about it.

This was just a kiss. It wasn't as if they were going to strip down right then and there and go at it, or she was at least hoping that's not what he had planned. Just a kiss. All girls her age were randomly kissing guys wherever they went, but something just felt off.

Before his lips could finally claim hers, there was a crash from in the kitchen. They both jumped and jerked away from one another, her eyes wide as she stared into the doorway to the kitchen.

"What was that?" Isaac questioned, though she had no answer for him.

Remaining silent, Lydia stood from the chair and hesitantly creeped into the kitchen. Isaac was only a step behind her; she could see him tense up and stand up taller, trying to make himself seem intimidating because there was no telling what they could possibly encounter.

Lying on the ground was a broken wine glass, the sharp shards scattered across the entire floor as if someone had forcefully slammed it against the ground. She knitted her eyebrows together, stopping just along the outskirts of the break due to the fact that her feet were bare.

"I guess it was just too close to the edge," he spoke up easily, his voice cool and calm. Lydia glanced back at him, taking in the way he was leaning against the counter and studying her the same way she was him. He probably didn't realize the way her hands were shaking or that her heart rate had sped up just a bit, signaling her uneasiness that was a product of a broken glass. Isaac figured that's all it was – just a broken glass that had fallen off the counter. That's not how she saw it, though, not after what Scott had told her and what she had read about her house.

"Lydia, honey, what was that noise? Did you break something?" Her mother strutted into the kitchen with concern etched over her features. She was always so worried about her only daughter now, so much so that it felt like she was being suffocated with affection from time to time.

"A glass just fell, its fine," she quickly explained, hoping her mother would get the point and leave. Unfortunately, that wasn't going to happen. Her mother stood silently at the other end of the kitchen for a moment, looking back and forth between her daughter and the unknown boy standing at her side. Lydia hadn't told her that she was going to have company over because she knew her mother would never venture down long enough to find out. She apparently had been wrong.

"Who's your friend?" The older woman finally spoke, motioning towards Isaac.

"Isaac," she stated in a strained voice, her gaze turning into that of a glare directed only towards her mother. "We're working on a school assignment together," she continued to explain, wanting her mother to just go back upstairs.

"Oh…well, I'll clean up this mess and you two get back to your project, okay?"

"No, I'll do it. Isaac was just leaving," she glanced back at the tall boy, an apologetic smile momentarily replacing her glare so he wouldn't pick up on her distaste for her own mother. Isaac looked back down at her in confusion before then nodding his head, finally picking up what she had been putting down for him.

"Yeah, I have to be home before my dad gets off work." He lied, or so she thought, she really wasn't sure either way. With that, Isaac muttered a soft goodbye to her, and then told her mother that it was nice to meet her before disappearing into the house to gather his belongings and leave. That left Lydia alone in the kitchen with her mother, both of them partaking in a silent stare down. Her mother had her hands on her hips, as if she was trying to think of ways to scold her daughter for being so rude. Lydia, on the other hand, was just waiting for her mother to leave so she could clean up the mess. Who would break first?

As usual, it was the older Martin.

Once she was alone in the kitchen, she quickly grabbed a broom and began to sweep up the broken pieces of glass. She made sure that all of the glistening shards were cleared from the floor before tossing it into the trashcan and returning the broom to the closet. All she could think of while cleaning was the house. Could it really be haunted like everyone suspected it was? She was in no way a skeptic but she also wasn't going to jump to the conclusions of ghosts like every paranormal show currently on TV did.

"I felt like such a bitch," the red head exclaimed into the receiver of her phone, very aware of Allison's slight laughter on the other end.

"It's fine, Lydia, seriously. Scott told me he talked to Isaac and he didn't even say anything about your mom," she spoke reassuringly and Lydia knew that she was also nodding along to her words.

"Ugh, she just irritates me to no end," she continued to explain her mother to Allison, though she knew no one would understand. Everyone that had ever met her mother adored her. They didn't see the way she was too affectionate and always trying to push her daughter to be "normal" and "perfect" – two things she would never be.

"That's what parents are supposed to do, Lyds. I mean, my dad doesn't like the fact that I'm completely against guns." Lydia always found it interesting that Allison was so different from her father. He was a hunter of sorts and always selling his new gun and weapon designs, but then there was Allison in the background voicing her disappointment in his entire business. She knew that that's what paid the bills and put a roof over her head, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

"It's normal," the brunette continued, a smile in her voice.

Lydia opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it when she heard the sound of footsteps outside her bedroom door. She silently walked towards the door, leaning forward a bit to try to hear better. The steps were loud, like the person producing them was trying to get her attention.

"I think my dad's home," she spoke to Allison, sighing. "I'll see you tomorrow at school." Lydia ended the call set her cellphone down on her dresser just as the footsteps started back up. She quickly opened the door and peered out into the long hallway, but there was no one there.

"Mom?" She called out, her eyebrows furrowing. There no answer.

"Dad?" She tried again, though that only produced the same response: silence.

Lydia was sure she heard footsteps. They were too loud and clear to be anything else other than that. She shook her head slowly to herself, finally closing the door and taking a few steps backwards into her room.

"You could hear that?"

The red head jumped at the sound of the voice because it was the last thing she had been expecting. Turning, she took in the figure of Stiles sitting on the edge of her bed, his eyes focused in on her.

"Why wouldn't I?" She pressed, trying to ignore the fact that this was just another dream and he wasn't real. Stiles was just a figment of her imagination, and she had to applaud her subconscious for coming up with someone that was able to keep her attention.

Stiles didn't reply to her question. He instead stood from her bed and began to pace around her bedroom, taking in all of the little trinkets and different books that made it hers. She watched him, both of them remaining silent.

Lydia swallowed and crossed her arms over her chest, moving to stand in the middle of the room so she could clearly watch him wherever he went.

"Why do I keep dreaming about you?"

The boy smiled to himself, glancing back at her from over his shoulder as he gently placed a picture of her and Malia back down where he had found it. "That is a very good question," he complimented, pointing a finger at her. That was all he said. No clear response, just praise for actually asking such. This was going **nowhere**.


	3. Chapter 3

"Why do I keep dreaming about you?"

The boy smiled to himself, glancing back at her from over his shoulder as he gently placed a picture of her and Malia back down where he had found it. "That is a very good question," he complimented, pointing a finger at her. That was all he said. No clear response, just praise for actually asking such. This was going nowhere.

"Maybe it's not a dream," he finally said, his voice full of false amazement, "maybe it's real."

Lydia rolled her eyes to his statement, a heavy sigh escaping. She couldn't believe that this was real because it seemed so artificial. It was too much like a dream for her to ever think otherwise. It didn't help that she always found herself jerking awake after their little conversations.

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" She challenged him, waiting to see if he was going to suggest that he prove it or not. Proving it would be complicated because how would she know if that was real or not? That question was always going to haunt her – just as it had for nearly the last eighteen years.

Stiles chuckled, his hands forcing their way into his jean pockets as he once again shrugged. "I don't care if you believe it or not," he stated matter-of-factly. This was one of the first times he had gotten a little sassy with her and usually she would be angry at whoever was throwing it at her, but she didn't feel that way with him. She still felt curious. Curious as to why her imagination was doing this to her.

Lydia had been too caught up in her own thoughts to notice he had crossed the room, the space between them now virtually nonexistent. It was just how it was the first night he appeared to her. Their eyes were locked and their chests nearly colliding. She was sure that they would graze if one of them happened to take a deep breath.

"Tell me something," he inquired, his voice soft. "What makes Lydia tick?"

That definitely wasn't the sort of question she was expecting. She was lost as to how to answer it, so she thought for a minute or so. "What makes me tick?" She repeated, still unsure.

Stiles lifted his hand to brush the hair off of her shoulder, exposing her porcelain skin to him. She swallowed nervously, silently hoping he hadn't noticed the chills that had formed over her flesh.

"What drives you completely insane? Mental?" His tone was dream-like, just as it usually was, but it was still enough to send a shiver down the entirety of her spine. Stiles twisted her hair around one of his fingers before releasing it, his fingertips then trailing down the side of her arm, watching his own movements intently.

"I…I don't know…" she confessed with a huff, closing her eyes for a short moment.

"Intimacy." He stated surely, nodding. He said it as if he had already known the answer but was just waiting to see if she would confirm his thoughts. Stiles wanted to know if she was a liar or one to tell the truth.

Images of her encounter with Isaac that same night flashed before her eyes. She remembered the way she nearly pushed him out of her house and the way she was nervous when he had almost kissed her. Intimacy had never been a problem of hers before, so why it suddenly happened to be now was a mystery.

Lydia remained silent, unwilling to let him know that he had been right with his accusation.

"No need to respond," he laughed beneath his breath, his hands now on her hips. Stiles drew her closer as his grip tightened, one of his hands releasing her so that he could gently cup her chin, forcing their eyes to meet once more.

The girl looked up at him with a dazed expression. Her gaze was that of someone locked in a trance; distant and lost.

"There's nothing wrong with that," he assured her, his palm pressing flat into her lower back. "I would prefer it, actually."

"I like seeing the chills across your skin and the way your hands shake whenever I get too close," he continued to speak, further enticing the red head. She wanted to protest and yell at him to leave her room, but she wanted a lot of things. That didn't necessarily mean it was going to happen.

Stiles leaned into her, gently pushing her further back until she had collided with the desk. A picture frame and a couple of other knick-knacks tumbled over the edge, landing in a small pile on the floor. Her breath hitched and he took that moment to firmly press his lips into hers, devouring her in only one of the ways that he wanted to.

To say that she was stunned by his actions would be an understatement. Her grip was tight on the edge of the desk in fear that she might topple over without something to securely lean on. Though there were voices in her head screaming at her to not kiss him back, she did. She moved her lips in perfect sync with his; the kiss alone causing her limbs to tingle and her mind to cloud with incoherent thoughts.

Only the sound of the footsteps returning pulled her from her trance. She broke the kiss and blinked a couple of times, as if she was just then truly realizing what was happening. His lips were red and she was sure that hers held a similar color.

Forcing her gaze away from him, she glanced to her bedroom door that still remained closed. The footsteps never ceased. She stepped away from him, Stiles reluctantly loosening his grip enough for her to do so.

"Lydia…" he spoke like a warning, shaking his head to himself. "Lydia, don't go out there." He reached for her, but she was too fast and had already thrown the door open, stepping out into the darkness of the hallway.

The strawberry blonde blinked a few times to get her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but there was nothing out there. Well, nothing that could have caused the footsteps. Her heart was pounding against her chest, adrenaline rushing through her veins. She didn't know what she would've done if someone had actually been out there, but she couldn't just let the subject completely drop. She had to know.

Once she figured that no one was there, she stepped back into her room. It was empty now. Stiles was no longer crowding the space. The only reminder that he had been there in the first place was the picture frame and books on the ground, and the tingling feeling that had lingered on her lips from their kiss.

Why had it been so easy for her to kiss Stiles, but just the chance that Isaac was going to kiss her had sent her thoughts into frenzy?

* * *

><p>Lydia stared blankly at the wall of her dining room. She ignored the chatter that was going back and forth between Scott and Allison, choosing to further focus on what had happened the previous night. Her main curiosity was with Stiles and the fact that he had disappeared when she stepped out of the room. Why hadn't he wanted her to go out there in the first place?<p>

Not only was she thinking of Stiles and his odd behavior, but also of the incident with the broken wine glass. Glasses didn't just fall off of counters – not without there being a reaction to cause it do so. The glass also looked as if it had been smashed with great force. The way it shattered in a way that caused the shards to spread out in a circle proved that.

"Guys…I think my house is haunted," she spoke up, cutting off Allison midsentence.

Allison took a double take in Lydia's direction, unsure if she was hearing her correctly. She figured she was by the way Scott was also looking at her.

"Ghosts aren't real," Allison stated with a shake of her head, just wanting to get Lydia off the subject of ghosts and anything supernatural in general. This was the sort of stuff Scott loved and she really didn't want him to get all worked up over it. She figured it was only a matter of time before he requested that they have their own version of Ghost Hunters in Lydia's house.

"They are," the red head exclaimed, her eyes slowly shifting over to her new friend. Her voice had cracked slightly and she wasn't entirely sure as to why. She didn't think she was going to cry, but the tears rimming her eyes and the gnawing feeling at the back of her throat was telling her otherwise. "It – it broke a glass yesterday when Isaac was here and then I kept hearing footsteps outside my door last night…but there was no one there." She groaned and wiped at her eyes before any tears could fall.

"Lydia…it's an old house, the counters are probably uneven and the footsteps were just sounds of the house settling," Allison was trying terribly hard to get her point across. She didn't believe in the supernatural and she wasn't about to be dragged into this mess because Scott was obsessed and Lydia was troubled.

"I think we should listen to Lydia," Scott finally spoke up, nodding. "This house has a lot of history, Allison, and a long list of deaths to go along with it."

Lydia was thankful that she had someone on her side, but the last thing she wanted to do was cause a fight between the only friends she had really made since arriving in Los Angeles. She also considered Isaac to be a friend, though she was sure he would side with Allison on this subject.

"You can't be serious," the brunette exclaimed, now leaning further back in her seat as she glanced back and forth between both Lydia and Scott. "Footsteps? Glasses breaking? Those are the most cliché signs of a haunting, guys."

"Why don't you believe me?" Lydia spoke up, the tears returning to her eyes. She made no movement to wipe them away this time. She was growing more and more upset with each passing second and she wanted Allison to see that.

Allison pursed her lips, her gaze intent as it lingered with Lydia's. "Ghosts are not real."

"You think I'm crazy…" the red head continued, her eyes closing and her head shaking along to her words. "You think I'm crazy!" Her voice was loud as she repeated the words, her hands dropping forcefully onto the top of the table which caused both of her new friends to jump.

Lydia swallowed and licked over her lips, a faint whimper then coming from the back of her throat. She had just shown that she truly was crazy and she figured it was now only a matter of time before Scott and Allison both avoided her. First, they would ignore her calls and only mumble a greeting to her in the hallway, and then all interactions would cease. It had happened in the past and she was damn well sure it could happen again. History did have a way of repeating itself, afterall.

"I'm sorry…" she mumbled out beneath her breath, turning her head away from them.

Allison remained silent, though she stood from the table and made her way towards the exit. She was apparently tired of Lydia's antics for the night and she didn't blame her. Scott lingered for a beat longer. He was just staring at Lydia as if he wanted to help her however he could. She could tell that he wanted to say whatever was on his mind, but he kept it all inside for a later date.

"Sorry, Lyds," he whispered so only she could hear his words before he then joined Allison, the couple exiting the house together.

* * *

><p>The clock sitting on the mantle was telling her that it was after two in the morning. She knew that she should be in bed and asleep because she was way beyond exhausted but just the thought of doing as such felt wrong. What if she was to dream of him again? There was no telling what would happen this time, especially since the dreams became more realistic and intense each night. It was only a matter of time before she was stuck in that dream-like state forever.<p>

A stray tear slid down her check, the little drop glistening from the light being reflected off of the television. Lydia sat silently, her gaze on said TV, but she wasn't paying attention to the characters or whatever show was playing in general. She only had it turned on for the background noise. The sound of footsteps from above her had returned, as had the faint ringing in her ears. This was the only way to drown out the sounds.

"I'm not crazy…" she whispered to herself.

Shadows played together out of the corner of her eye, though every time she turned to catch them in the act they disappeared. It was as if the house was playing with her. It wanted her to go insane. It wanted her to lose her mind completely. The main thing that terrified her was how fast it was working to do so. She had been in the house for only a week, if even that. It obviously did not have any time to spare.

Closing her eyes, she forced back a sob that was waiting to be released. She wasn't going to let the house get the best of her. She refused to let it tear her down. Maybe those thoughts were just that, though – thoughts.

As she opened her eyes, she noticed the outline of a person in front of the TV. Her vision was blurry and the light from the television only made the person appear as a solid, black figure. She blinked a couple of times, though her tears didn't fade and her running mascara caused her eyes to further burn. Lydia knew that it wasn't either of her parents because it was too petite to be her father and too curvy of a body to belong to her mother.

"Please…go away," she requested between her deep breaths of air, her fingers digging into the fabric of the couch. The figure didn't move. It lingered within the same spot and the longer she stared at it, the more she able to make out of its features.

Groaning under her breath, Lydia wiped her eyes with the back of her hands and quickly dropped them down into her lap, forcing herself to focus. She was able to take in the soulless eyes that stared at her and the pale skin that appeared to be nearly translucent but not in a "Casper the Friendly Ghost" kind of way, but more because of the fact that the person's flesh was so pale. It didn't take her long to realize that it was a girl, maybe a couple of years older than her. She was wearing what seemed to be a uniform of some kind. The uniform looked as if it was a bright white at one point in time, but it was now stained with a deep red, almost brown color. Dried blood.

"What do you want from me?" She croaked out at the figure, though there was no response. At least not from the young girl before her.

"Leave her alone!"

Lydia had already dropped her head into the palms of her hands, her sobs returning at full force. She wasn't able to hold back her tears any longer and she allowed them to freely stream down her cheeks.

"Go away!" The guy yelled at the figure, or so she assumed that's what his anger was directed towards.

It was only a matter of seconds before strong arms wrapped around her and she was pulled into his chest. He stroked her hair soothingly, kissing the top of her head and whispering little phrases that let her know that everything was okay and that the figure was gone.

Lydia didn't need to look up to know who it was that had sent the pale girl away. She would be able to recognize his voice from even within a crowded room.

Her fingers gripped tightly onto his shirt as she continued to cry into his chest, clutching him as if he was the only person she could depend on. Lydia wanted to believe that he was the only one, and sometimes she found herself actually giving into such, but then she remembered that he wasn't real. He was only real within her imagination, and what good did that do her?

"Everything is going to be okay," he whispered after a few minutes had passed. Stiles had leaned back against the arm of the couch, though he was still holding the red head protectively, his fingers still sifting through her hair.

"You don't have to worry about them, okay?" Stiles gently lifted her chin so that their eyes could meet. She stared up at him in amazement, though she was sure it wasn't noticeable behind her red, puffy eyes and mascara stained cheeks. "If they ever bother you again, just tell them to 'go away'," his voice was but a whisper again, his thumb slowly stroking over her flushed cheek.

"Okay." Lydia choked out the word and then lowered her head back down onto his chest, her eyes fluttering closed once more.

* * *

><p>"Lydia, darling, it's time to wake up."<p>

It was the sound of her mother's voice that woke her from a deep sleep. She took in a deep breath of air and slowly let it out as she felt her body beginning to wake up – much to her distaste.

"You fell asleep on the couch," the older woman spoke up again, disapproval apparent in her tone.

Lydia remained silent as she opened her eyes and then yawned before pushing away from the couch cushion her head had been resting on. There was a gnawing pain radiating throughout her head and she immediately wanted a handful of Tylenol. She couldn't remember the last she had had a headache this severe.

"Go take a shower and I'll fix you some breakfast."

Nodding slowly, she allowed her gaze to settle on her mother's bright face for a long moment before she then found her way off of the couch and up the stairs. She wanted to say that the events of the night before had only been another dream, but she knew that couldn't be. It couldn't. The figure she had seen was too real and it was something she would never be able to wipe from her brain. It haunted her every time she closed her eyes. But then there was him – Stiles. He had appeared to her again, this time staying much longer than usual. He had lulled her to sleep with his soft and gentle gestures.

"I don't know why you only come out when you feel like it…" her voice was soft as she slowly stepped through her room, looking around corners and even in her closest as if that's where she would find him. Lydia was tired of Stiles coming to her when he felt like it or when it was convenient for him. What about the times when she just wanted someone to talk to?

"Do you not think that you can trust me?" She pushed open the door to her bathroom with her fingertips, though all that was revealed was her bathtub and her sink. No Stiles.

Sighing heavily, Lydia figured that she would give up for the time being. She could already smell the breakfast that her mother was whipping up, letting her know that she was hungrier than she previously thought.

The girl stripped out of her clothing and stepped into the stream of water directly after turning on the water. It was cold for only a few seconds, though it was long enough to fully wake her up. She allowed the water to run down the entirety of her aching body; she had never realized how sore you could get just from sobbing all night.

Steam filled the room and the water was soon near scolding against her skin, but that's how she liked it. It almost made her feel as if the water was washing away all of the bad. She pushed the thought away for a moment as the hair on the back of her neck stood up despite the heat in the bathroom. It was then that she opened her eyes and glanced towards the shower curtain, his outline clearly visible.

"I trust you," he spoke as if he somehow knew that she had finally realized his presence.

Lydia furrowed her eyebrows as she drew back the curtain a bit so only her head and neck was visible, eyeing Stiles.

"You couldn't say that before I had gotten naked?"

Stiles chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. She picked up on the fact that he wasn't wearing his usual short sleeved t-shirt and black jeans, but had instead opted for a plain white shirt with a plaid button up over it, his jeans now a dark blue color. Lydia had never really been one to pay attention to such things, but it was hard not to when all she did was study him – silently sizing him up anytime he was around.

"Are you okay?" He questioned, taking a few steps towards her. She clutched onto the shower curtain a bit tighter, nodding. He nodded slightly after she did, though she could tell by his face that he wasn't really buying her response. He sure as hell had a way of seeing through her.

The two fell silent. She shifted her eyes to the left and then to the right, her lips pursed as she tried to think of something to say to end the awkwardness. Instead, she closed the shower curtain and turned the water off, her hand then appearing from the around the plastic curtain.

"Can you hand me that towel, please?"

Lydia would usually kick out whoever it was that was interrupting her shower, especially if that someone was a boy. She was nowhere near stupid, so she knew how boy's hormones worked. Stiles' imagination was probably running wild at that very moment with trying to figure out what she was hiding behind the curtain.

Once he had handed her the towel, she wrapped the plush fabric around her body securely and then pushed the curtain aside, the metal hooks scraping uncomfortably along the shower bar.

"I guess I should thank you for last night?" Lydia avoided his gaze while stepping out of the shower, her bare feet leaving little puddles along the hardwood as she padded into her bedroom.

Stiles shrugged, following only a few feet behind her. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, his hands finding their way into his pockets. His usual stance.

"Stop lying to me," her tone was stern and she shot a quick glance back in his direction. Lydia was tired of not knowing the truth about whatever was happening. She was tired of thinking that she was losing her mind. What had happened the previous night was real. She knew what she saw was real. Stiles coming to her and comforting her had been real. So, why was he trying to play dumb?

"What are you going to do today?" He was quick to change the subject as he sat down on the edge of her bed, watching with intent as she stood in front of her closet with her back to him. Stiles wanted to go up to her and touch her damp skin. He wanted to feel the warmth of her beneath his fingertips again. He wanted to hold her in his arms once again, though this time he could do without the crying.

"It's Saturday," she stated as if he hadn't already known as such. "I was just going to work on my school project a bit more…maybe apologize to Allison and Scott for acting like such a lunatic."

"The story project?" He interjected, immediately gathering her attention again.

Lydia had never really spoken to him about the things going on in her life, so how did he know about the project Mrs. Blake assigned?

"Have you been watching me?" She answered his question with another, her eyes squinting slightly at him.

Stiles looked like a deer caught in the headlights; his eyes were wide and he opened his mouth to speak, though only an unsure squeak of sorts escaped. He had been caught red handed and there was no way to talk his way out of this one. So, he instead changed the subject again.

"Why do you girls always take so long to find something to wear?"

"Why are you avoiding the question?"

"What question?"

"Stiles." Lydia sighed heavily; now glaring at the boy still perched on the edge of her bed.

"There are some things you just don't need to know yet, okay?" His voice had turned to that of a nervous man. He clasped his hands in front of him, his elbows resting on his knees. He was still staring at her in a way that made her feel as if he was hiding something big from her, with a hint of curiosity hidden within it.

Stiles stood from her bed and approached her with a faint smirk. He glanced down the towel that was still wrapped around her body and he had the sudden urge to untwist the top of it and let it fall, but he resisted. He figured it was only a matter of time before she allowed him the pleasure of seeing such things.

"You'll know everything in due time, Lydia." His hands slid up her arms slowly before then settling on her hands, bringing her closer to him. She huffed, becoming transfixed with his eyes once again. He was giving her the same look as before that made her believe anything that was to come from his mouth. That perfect, inviting mouth.

As that specific thought crossed her mind, she stood on her tip toes and placed a small kiss to his lips. She allowed it to linger for a moment before pulling back completely. Lydia pressed her chest into his – a string of thoughts quickly crossing her mind, telling her that this was a position they often found themselves in. It had become quite the routine.

"You need to get dressed," he then added, his dark eyes falling to the towel she was still sporting.

A smirk slid across her lips and she arched an eyebrow, biting at her lower lip. "Why?"

"Because you're beautiful."

That wasn't the response she was expecting. She had assumed he would say something that any other teenage boy would – something mildly perverted and suggestive.

Instead, he had managed to bring a blush to her cheeks.

This was quite the turn of events.

* * *

><p><strong>I felt the need to write a bit of fluff towards the end, just to even out Lydia's slight breakdown. I couldn't help myself. xD<strong>

**Happy reading, darlings! xo**


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter has a bit of smut in it, though it's not too graphic. **

**Smut has never really been easy for me. **

**JUST A WARNING. xD**

**Enjoy, darlings. xo**

* * *

><p>A couple of weeks had gone by though nothing had really changed with Lydia or within her new home. She still found herself hearing footsteps and that damned ringing in her ears had yet to fully cease.<p>

Dark figures still appeared to her at odd hours of the day. Sometimes it was when she was preparing herself lunch because both of her parents were out for the day. Other times they showed themselves when she was lying in bed at night trying to sleep. Then there were the random moments when she was just walking down the hallway. They would usually just come in quick spurts or glances, but there was the rare occasion when they would linger.

Lydia knew she could just tell them to "go away" like Stiles had said, but there was something within her that wanted to study them. She couldn't fight her curiosity. Half of her still believed that they were only there within her mind. The other half…well, the other half was further convinced that this dreadful house was haunted. Lydia wasn't sure as to which idea was crazier.

"We only have a week left to finish the story," Allison spoke as her three friends stood around her. A mountain of papers were scattered out across the table before them, letting the small group know that they had no idea where to start. Parts of the story had been written, but not without large gaps and mediocre dialogue crowding the pages. Lydia thought the assignment would be easy when they first received it. How was she to know that she would be dealing with a slow moving mental breakdown and a haunted house?

"I say we take a break," Isaac suggested with a nod, a bored sigh escaping from him. Every group had that one member that never really contributed anything and within their group it was Isaac. He tossed out a decent idea here and there, but that was about it. Lydia didn't mind having his name attached to the assignment, though. She really just wanted it to be over with.

Allison let out an irritated groan from beneath her breath. She was obviously not fond of Isaac's suggestion, but no one seemed to be protesting it in her defense

"I think I'm with Isaac on this one," Scott stated, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. He apparently wasn't used to going against Allison's word. Most people weren't brave enough to do as such.

The group scattered in multiple directions. She heard the bathroom door close in the distance, followed by the sound of rummaging through the cabinets. She figured that Scott was just hungry, as he always was.

"Do your parents not have a liquor stash or anything?" Scott huffed out once Lydia had joined him in the back of the kitchen. She crossed her arms and shook her head at him in disapproval, her lips pursed.

"Seriously, Scott?" She rolled her eyes and stepped up to his side, closing the cabinet doors he had left open. Lydia thought about denying Scott what he wanted. Just because her parents were gone for the night didn't mean she was going to go against their rules and allow her friends to partake in underage drinking. Wait – what was she saying? Of course she was.

"It's in his office," she explained while closing the last cabinet, "I'll go get a bottle."

Lydia bounced out of the kitchen and disappeared up the stairs. The entire second story of the house was dark, other than the faint glow of the streetlight that was situated on the sidewalk directly outside of the house. It didn't do much other than cast shadows all over the place, immediately causing her pace to speed up. She swallowed nervously as she walked quickly down the hallway, not wanting to spend more time alone than what she had to.

Once in her father's office, she dropped to her knees in front of the large bookcase on the opposite end of the room. He used to keep his liquor cabinet locked when they had lived in Boston, though that was primarily her fault. He had caught her on more than one occasion sneaking a bottle of Vodka out for her own amusement. Her little late night visits to the bottle had since stopped, but this was different. She wasn't about to drink to forget and to feel numb – she was going to do it to have a good time with her friends.

"You shouldn't be in here." She felt his presence before he actually spoke up. It was one that she had grown accustomed to, so much so that she could now feel him around her before he made it known that he was there.

"Why not?" She shot back at him while reading the labels of the bottles before settling on a tall one filled with clear liquid. Vodka. Her favorite.

"Because it isn't safe, Lydia. You shouldn't be up here alone either."

Lydia rolled her eyes at his concern. She closed the cabinet and stood from the floor, smoothing out her skirt with her free hand in the process.

"Why? Because of all the ghosts?" Her tone was that of a taunting one, her annoyance directed to him and only him. Stiles hadn't been coming around as much lately. He used to appear at least once a day and now she was lucky if he showed up twice a week. Even though she knew nothing about him or what he was in general, she still had a bit of a dependence on him. Stiles was the only person she could talk to about all of the problems in her life. He understood her.

"Look, Stiles, I appreciate the concern, but the things I keep seeing are harmless." She approached him slowly, her gaze lingering on his. The darkness of the room made it seem as if he had no eyes at all – like all that was there were deep, endless sockets of nothingness. "All they do is stand in the shadows and stare at me."

"Those are just the lost souls of the house, Lydia," he explained, "you have no idea what you're really up against."

Lydia couldn't help but to roll her eyes again. He was being overly dramatic, causing her annoyance towards him to only grow more severe. Her lips pursed and she looked at him in a way that said 'you've got to be kidding me'. "I think I can take care of myself now."

Before another word could be said, the sound of laughter traveled up the stairs and into the office they were standing in, followed by someone calling for her. She recognized the voice as Isaac's and the laughter belonging to Scott. There was no telling what the guys have gotten themselves into during the two minutes she was gone.

"I have to go," she explained in a hushed tone, trying to move by Stiles, but he took a step to his right, blocking her.

"Who was that?"

"Who? Isaac? He's in my English group," she confessed to Stiles, though it had been no secret. She had spoken of all three of her new friends before. So why did he look as if he was jealous? The last thing she needed was for her imaginary friend to take a turn for the worst – if that's still what he was.

Lydia took a step forward, trying to make her exit again, but Stiles didn't budge. She sighed heavily, allowing her severe annoyance to now be known. Her eyes narrowed into a glare, studying the way his jaw clenched and unclenched.

"Stiles, seriously, I have to go." Her voice grew slightly louder and she dropped her arms to her side in defeat, though her grip on the neck of the Vodka bottle remained unbroken.

The red head took another chance and hesitantly stepped forward once again. This time Stiles made no attempt to stop her, so she continued her trek towards the door. He grabbed her elbow at the last minute, forcefully pulling her into him and then pressing her back into the door frame. She gasped, her eyes widening as she stared up into his dark eyes.

"Why are you doing this to me, Lydia?" His voice had a slight whine to it, his lips turning down into a frown. His hands were on her hips before frantically sliding up her sides and then resting on her cheeks, forcing their gaze to stay locked. His movements were jerky – unhinged even.

"You know how I feel about you…so why do you keep bringing him around?"

"I – I don't know what you're talking about," she spoke breathlessly, her heart pounding nervously within her chest. Lydia had never seen Stiles like this before and it honestly frightened her a bit. She had always prided herself in never being afraid of anything. That was obviously going down the drain now.

"Yes you do. Don't say that. I know you do." His voice sounded strained and it cracked in random places, like maybe he was trying to fight back tears. He couldn't be, could he? It was too dark in her father's office for her to tell.

"Lydia! What's the hold up?!" Isaac's voice bounded up the stairs again, cutting through the sound of Stiles' pleads.

Stiles leaned in and forced their lips together in a desperate kiss. She would have leaned into him on any other day, but she couldn't this time. Not with the way he was acting. Her hands moved to press flat against his chest before she finally managed to push him back. Stiles stumbled a few steps, a hurt expression covering his features. She took this time to run out of the room, refusing to look back.

"LYDIA!" Stiles screamed for her. The picture frames on the wall shook and a couple fell to the ground, breaking in the process. She jumped at the sound of the crashing and quickly traveled down the staircase, tripping at the bottom step and falling directly into Isaac's arms. He looked down at her stunned, apparently not suspecting the mentally unstable girl to literally fall into his arms.

"Are you okay?" He voiced his concern rather quickly, his grip tight on her. Her hands were shaking, her knuckles white from the death-grip she had had on the Vodka bottle.

"Did you not feel that?" She questioned, her eyebrows furrowing together. "It felt like an earthquake."

"Lydia…we didn't feel anything. There was no earthquake." Scott and Allison had stepped into the foyer to find out what all of the commotion was about, her eyes shifted between all three of them. She no longer liked the way they were looking at her. They were making her feel crazier than what she already knew she was.

"I guess the alcohol hit me harder than I thought," she stated with an unsteady chuckle, holding up the Vodka bottle as if she had already taken a couple of swallows from it.

Isaac's grip finally loosened around her, carefully setting her down fully on her feet. She glanced up at him with a sheepish smile, voicing a silent 'thank you' up to him. As she turned on her heel, slowly walking away from the group and into the kitchen to grab some cups, she clutched the bottle to her chest, squeezing her eyes closed while fighting back tears. Lydia wasn't sure what had just happened, but it felt as if maybe…maybe she had lost Stiles.

* * *

><p>"Are you feeling better?" Isaac plopped down onto the couch beside her, a cup to match her own in his grasp.<p>

Lydia felt like she was glowing. Her body was warm and she was comfortable in the house for once. The ringing in her ears was no more, though she knew it was all because of the alcohol. How unfortunate for her. It wasn't like she could stay drunk the entire time.

"Much," she responded with a smile as she turned her attention to the handsome boy at her side. Lydia studied him behind her drunken gaze, her smile lingering. His jaw was one out of a magazine, as were his cheekbones. He had the bone structure of a God and she desperately wanted to reach forward to touch him to make sure he was actually real. So, she did. Lydia lifted her hand and allowed her fingertips to graze over the sharpness of his jaw, the slight on-set of stubble pricking beneath her fingers.

"You're pretty," she spoke lazily, her tone dazed and distant. Isaac laughed in response and leaned towards her a bit more, nodding slowly.

"Yeah? So are you." His voice was a whisper, his large hand slowly sliding up her bare leg and to her hip, firmly gripping her and pulling her towards him. Lydia made the first move; she leaned in and pressed her lips to his in a small, open mouthed kiss. Her thoughts were cloudy, like her head was full of fog. That's how she liked it, though. That meant she wouldn't be thinking of Stiles or this damned house she was living in.

The nearly empty cup rolled out of her grasp, spilling Vodka and Sprite along the expensive rug her mother had purchased while overseas a few years ago. The older woman would surely ring her neck if she ever found out about this. Lydia smiled to herself at the thought, which only fueled the fire within her.

Turning more to face him, Lydia nipped at his lower lip before then deepening the kiss. She was kissing him like her life depended on him – it was forceful and full of need, but it wasn't because she needed him. She just needed the emptiness of it all. Isaac made her feel nothing. That's all she had ever wanted for the longest time.

Isaac leaned further into the red head until he was hovering over her, his body so close to lying on hers. One of his hands gripped at the arm of the couch in order to hold himself up while the other creeped lower, slowly grazing along the soft skin of her thigh. He took it upon himself to slip his fingers beneath the fabric of her dress, now gripping the fleshy part of her leg.

In the back of her mind she knew this wasn't right. It felt off. Like she shouldn't be doing this with Isaac. She couldn't spare a concern for those thoughts, though. She may not want him the way he wanted her, but it was still want the fueled her actions. Well, that and a whole lot of Vodka.

"Let's go upstairs," he mumbled against her lips, his voice barely audible. Lydia wasn't sure why, but she nodded her head in approval.

Within minutes, the two were in her room. She had led him up the stairs in a fit of giggles, stumbling over her own feet in the process. He laughed at her sad attempt at walking, but reached for her even in his drunken state, making sure she was okay.

Lydia fell back onto her bed, pulling the much taller boy down on top of her. Her movements were hasty as she pushed the sweater he was wearing off of his broad shoulders, forcing it away from his arms and off the bed. His actions were full of the same amount of need – if not more. Isaac placed hot kisses along her neck, his lips trailing down further to her chest and then into the cleavage her dress allowed to be exposed. She laughed softly, his eyelashes and short hair tickling her overly sensitive skin.

The strawberry blonde sat up, her eyes heavy as she gripped at the bottom of her dress and practically tore it away from her body. The fabric soon joined Isaac's sweater on the ground, along with his t-shirt which was the next article of clothing to come off.

Licking over her lips, she reached forward and dragged a fingertip down the center of his chest and down to the beginning of his jeans at a teasingly slow pace. She gazed up at him with a smirk, watching the way his eyes scanned over her exposed flesh, but he was a kid in a candy store. He only wanted more.

There was no time for pleasantries, though. For reasons unknown, Lydia felt as if this needed to be rushed. Their friends were downstairs; though she was sure they were caught up in one another also. Her parents wouldn't be back until the following night, so why was she in such a hurry?

"Stop looking at me like that, Lahey," her confidence was showing through in tone and she felt like the girl she used to be. The powerful, confident girl she was back in Boston before everything went south and the shit hit the fan. "Fuck me or get out of my room," she continued to speak, her voice stern. Lydia knew what she wanted and she was going to get it – just as she always did.

Isaac stared down at her; stunned by her sudden dominance. No one here knew who she was before so they had no idea that she had this sort of personality inside of her. She could easily keep it hidden because no one liked a girl with too much confidence, especially if said girl was also mentally unstable. They labeled her cruel names, though she never let such petty things bother her. She was above all of that.

Reaching forward, she quickly unbuckled Isaac's belt before then tugging at the zipper of his jeans. She had him in only his boxers in less than a minute, both of them eager.

"Have you ever…?" He questioned, his eyebrows raising as he stopped in the middle of removing her panties, his fingers still hooked in the side of the thin fabric. Lydia laughed at his audacity, rolling her eyes.

"What do you think?"

Lydia knew she was sending mixed signals. Only a couple of weeks ago she had been visibly terrified of just kissing him, her hands shaking from beneath the table in attempt to keep such from him. But now, well…now she was ready for him to get to the point. No shame or fear in their actions detected.

Huffing, the red head took it upon her to rid herself of her panties, pulling him between her legs in the process. She tugged at his boxers until they were below his hips and his hard length was exposed. She could feel it pressing against her inner thigh, so close to where she was aching.

With no hesitation, Isaac thrusted into her to the hilt. Her eyes closed and a throaty moan escaped, her muscles clenching around him as she adjusted to the feeling of him within her. He gave her no time to really adjust, though. His hips were moving in jerky movements, his fingers digging roughly into her hips.

_"Oh."_ She gasped, a smirk appearing across her lips.

Lydia was still in a half-sitting position, her back pressed against the headboard. Isaac rested on his knees in front of her, his face buried into the crook of her neck. She opened her eyes as hooked his arms beneath both of her knees, further spreading her legs for him. Lydia could feel an orgasm bubbling within her. The tingling had started in her toes and it was now working its way up to the pit of her stomach. She knew he felt the same by the way he was grunting and biting at her shoulder.

As her eyes closed for a short moment and then opened once again, she noticed the figure standing on the other side of the room. She had a clear view of him as he watched her. He watched her face distort in pleasure – listened to her moans fill the room, gasping out a name that was not his own.

Lydia could see the fury in his face. His hands clenched at his sides, his jaw sharp like he was ready to snap at any given moment. Dragging her nails down Isaac's arm, she gripped tight into his hair with her other hand, tugging at the short locks just as her orgasm moved through her, causing her entire body to shake and quiver. Isaac met his end only a few thrusts after her, filling her.

A smirk found its way back to her plush lips, but it wasn't because of the edge Isaac had managed to push her over. No, it was instead because of the way Stiles still lingered in her room, watching in silent fury. He had fire in his eyes, which only intensified when he noticed her smirking at him. Taunting him.

"Fuck…" Isaac's voice filled her ears, bringing her back to reality. She looked away from Stiles and turned her attention to Isaac, her smirk faltering. He released the grip he had on her legs and moved away from her, his fingers sifting through his short hair as he glanced at her. The effects of the alcohol had obviously started to wear off on both of them, though she flashed him a small smile anyway.

Standing from her bed, Isaac pulled his boxers back onto his hips and disappeared into her bathroom. For the next few minutes Lydia processed what had just happened. She rubbed her eyes and blinked a few times, her head falling into her hands. Stiles had already left her bedroom, though she wasn't sure when he had. Not that it was important.

Isaac retreated from the bathroom a moment later, yawning. He padded over to her and laid down on the bed again, his cheek pressed against her favorite pillow and his eyes falling closed. She furrowed her eyebrows together in confusion, unsure of what to do or say. Had she extended an invitation to him to stay the night? No, she didn't think so.

Deciding against waking him up, Lydia instead just grabbed her panties and slid them back on before turning off the lamp on the bedside table and sliding down beneath the comfort of her blankets. She figured that Allison and Scott could find their way out of the house, if they even had plans to leave that night. So now all she had to worry about were her thoughts that threatened to haunt her for the remainder of her time awake.

* * *

><p>Stupid. She was stupid. That was all she had to say about herself the next morning. She had been stupid. Her actions had been stupid. Doing something like that to Stiles had been beyond stupid. She had been terrified of losing him and now she was sure that she really had. And after last night, she didn't blame him one bit.<p>

Lydia sat up in her bed, her back leaning against the headboard with the sheets pooling around her waist. She had been up for about an hour now just waiting – waiting for Isaac to wake up so she could think of an excuse to get him out of her room and more importantly just out of the house completely. This wasn't who she was anymore. She wasn't the girl that slept with random guys just to distract herself from her own dark thoughts. That was who she had been. Though now it seemed as if she was circling back to being that same person.

"Shit, what time is it?" Isaac's voice was groggy as he lifted his head, his eyes squinting from the bright morning soon that filtered into her room.

"Almost ten," she responded, her tone distant. She glanced down at him, watching the way he shifted onto one of his elbows and then leaned over, kissing her cheek softly.

"I should go," he voiced with another yawn following, before then standing from her bed. Isaac lazily redressed in the same clothes from the night before, throwing random glances and smirks in her direction during the process. What the hell was this guy trying to do? Had she made the ultimate mistake of bedding a clinger? Wonderful. That would be just her luck.

"I'll walk you out," she mimicked his movements with getting dressed, though she opted for a random loose fitting sundress that was decent enough to just wear around the house.

The two walked down the stairs in silence, neither of them sure as to what to say. Lydia just kept thinking about how stupid she was and how she needed to talk to Stiles as soon as possible. Though she doubted he ever wanted to see her face again.

"I'll see you at school tomorrow," she breathed out with a forced smile. Lydia stood in the open doorway, Isaac now standing on the porch in front of her. He smiled and nodded his head, soon closing the space between them again for another chaste kiss. She returned the kiss much to her lack of satisfaction and then closed the door once he had stepped off the porch completely.

"Jesus fucking Christ," she mumbled to herself, her eyes closing. Lydia rubbed her temples in slow circles, desperately trying to forget the events of the night before. She couldn't believe she had allowed herself to have sex with Isaac, a guy she barely knew. She much less couldn't believe Stiles had stood there and watched – and she had allowed him to do so. Hell, she had even smirked at him as if she was saying that he would never be so lucky. What a load of bullshit.

With a quick lap around the house, she realized that she was alone. Scott and Allison had probably left earlier that morning after figuring out where their two friends had ventured off to. She wanted to call Malia or even Allison just to complain about what had happened. She needed to have a mini breakdown with someone, though Isaac was Allison's friend before she was, so that wouldn't end well. Malia would more than likely further worry about her best friend who was stuck on the other side of the country. She knew that Lydia would do things such as this before, but everyone thought she had grown past the demeaning phase in her life. Apparently she had not.

So, she opted for falling back against the couch. Her green eyes scanned the mess before her that she was left to clean up by herself. It wasn't like she could call to Stiles to help her. Not this time and not ever again.

"I know I fucked up," she grumbled to anyone that was out there and willing to listen to her. Lydia's gaze danced around the open space, hoping and praying that she would see him lingering in the distance, but no such luck.

"I'm sorry…" she added in a whisper, knowing that he would be able to hear her from wherever he was within the house. Instead, she was only met with more silence.

It was funny to her, the current predicament she was currently in; she had been wanting silence for the last month of her life, and now she had the silence and it was eating her alive.


End file.
